I'm not going to have a vegetable garden

So I've finally said the words.

No vegetable garden here. Probably ever.

Which, if I'm being honest, I knew when we bought the place.

Despite my wild out loud fantasies of tractoring and row crop growing and getting goats for the manure-making (and obviously face cuddling), I knew.

Because this place is on a seriously not fucking around slope and the only sunny space I have that's flat is right annoyingly out at the front of our property where we have to have space to deal with the solar panels and for, say, the corralling of 402 goats during their 5 annual days of glory eating the poison oak.

I can have a vegetable garden or I can have a goat corral for five days of the year. I went goats. Doy. 

As though there are people that DON'T want this on their property.

Also deer.

Deer, cottontails, ground squirrels, jackrabbits, skunks, opossum, rats, field mice...there are a lot of creatures here that love to eat/make a nest of/fuck up a vegetable garden.

Dudes - even the succulents I planted in a pot on the top level of my deck within five feet of Jada The Predator's jaws weren't safe. Something fucking ate them, too.

Sidenote: Name that movie. Hint: That is not a complete quote.

So yeah, despite whatever delusions I may have vaguely entertained when we bought the place of the vegetable garden I *might* have *one day* once we don't need that flat spot for necessary maintenance activities of our main power source and the hungry naughty wildlife has left their native habitat of our property because they decide they want their kids going to the good schools in Los Altos rather than this bumpkin shit (honestly, I have no idea of school systems. I don't have kids. But you get it.) - maybe then.

But until then, no.

And that's totally 100% OK.

Seriously. I'm fine with it.

Because...natives.

California natives and an essentially untouched 5 acre oak woodland that has almost every Sunset Zone 16 exposure imaginable.

Ok, go.

Like full sun, part sun, part shade, shade, deep shade, dry shade, wet weather creeks, slope, flat, well draining, clay, sand, under oaks, fog drip line, east/west/north/south facing whatever - all the exposures and conditions.

The same Zone 16 that Sunset deems "one of Northern California’s finest horticultural climates."

And the same house where the previous residents decided to plant vinca and let it run amok in the front and then never did a shitting thing about the poison oak choking out the Coast Live Oak (Quercus agrifolia for my plant nerds! Woo!) in the back and then put in a bunch of tragically tight-spaced non-native water hungry Poplars and surrounded it all, including the oaks, with drip and sprinkler irrigation.

For the win.

Ugh.

But to bring it back. To make it right, plant-wise. That's the fun now.

So, sorry tomatoes, but our field grower is perfectly excellent at growing tangy rich dry farmed Early Girls and drunkeningly luscious heirloom cantaloupe and more frilly perfect dill than I ever knew even existed in a single crop anywhere. And I grow basil and cucumbers year round, so we have that and all the other shit that comes off the farm. So no one needs a vegetable garden then, too.

Instead, I'm growing lupines, Lupinus arboreus now.

These are some native annual lupines which are different but still awesome and they will stay.

They're there. In the dug out ruts in the side of the slope there. Promise.

And buckwheat, Erigonum grande rubescens

Obviously California poppies, Eschscholzia california

And Matijla poppies, Romneya coulteri

Next spring, this thing is going to be huge and gorgeous. Swear it.

And Bush Anenome, Carpenteria californica

Ok, kinda cheating here since this is one from our old house. But I still love this plant and I'm having LOTS here. 

And Flannel Bush, Fremontodendron

This was before the deer dined on it. It looks OK now and next spring BETTER and then in a few years UH-MAY-ZING.

And California Lilac, Ceanothus

Do you like the high contrast photo that I took at midday after I discovered the deer had gone to work on my new Ceanothus 'Joyce Coulter'? I don't. It's a shit photo and those deer are jerks but next spring I bet the "after" photo will look incredible.

And Mock Orange, Philadelphus lewisii

And Woolly Blue Curls, Trichostema lanatum

And Sticky Monkey Flower, Mimulus

This guy was supposed to be Mimulus bifidus 'White', but Annie's played a wee joke on me before sending me what I ordered so DAMNITALLTOHELLNOTREALLY I have a few of these Mimulus aurantiacus 'Cherry' in and amongst the 'Pt Molate' and the Mimulus bifidus 'White'. Worse things have happened, I assure you. 

And Hummingbird Sage, Salvia spathacea

I have an absolutely inappropriate love affair with this plant. I'm planting it everywhere. It's going to be glorious. If not a little showy.

This is one of the plantings. Of, I think five now. I swear this will look good one day. Probably.

And Giant Chain Fern, Woodwardia fimbriata

And what I thought was Western Sword Fern, Polystichum munitum, but on reflection is I'm not sure. Thoughts, my plant people? I'm going to check my plant tags.

It is impossibly green here in the spring.

And Maidenhair Fern, Adiantum capillus-veneris

And Showy Milkweed, Asclepias speciosa

And Douglas Iris, Iris douglasiana

And Penstemon

And Western Redbud, Cercis occidentalis

Yeah. She needs time.

To start with anyway.

And maybe one day, when we've cleared enough of the poison oak from the beautiful hillside to put in our little trail, I'll get to go out into the wild (but in a way where I don't meet a tragic end in an abandoned bus) to plant even more because I'M DRUNK WITH THE POWER OF FIVE WHOLE ACRES OF ZONE 16 OAK WOODLAND WOO!

So yeah, no vegetable garden probably, but, like, I'm fine with it.

So...the fucking marigolds.

I planted too many marigolds.

Those are bush beans in there. True story.

The flower that I have always maligned has, like, run a-complete-mok in the garden.

I planted too many marigolds.

I tell myself this every time I go to the garden.

Because this past winter when I was planning my garden, all the while knowing we were totally planning to eventually sell our house and the garden and move to the country (yes, we knew. Don't be all mad.), I made a pact with myself.

Or something like a pact - like, a decision. Or a mandate! No, that sounds weird.

Anyway, my *strategy*,  let's call it since that sounds marginally less Plant Lady Crazy, was that this, quite possibly my last vegetable garden at this house, was going to be AMAZING.

Perfect.

Over the top with fucking awesomeness.

Like, no whammies whatsoever.

I was going to just kill it. In the way that killing it is having it be the best vegetable garden I've grown ever.

So, all I planted were Sure Things.

Like, firstly I took stock of what plants I'd saved seed from. Those were my home team advantage. I already knew they loved it here.

Then, for the Sure Thing ones for which I didn't have saved seed (like they were hybrid varieties) but I knew did REALLY well here, I went into my seed stash and raided whatever I had left to grow out into seedlings.

Then I set out a garden plan for the final round of my crop rotation in the garden in which I have grown vegetables for 10 years and, as extra insurance for the AMAZING HOLY SHIT garden, I also chose and sowed marigold seed that I hoped wouldn't make me sad every time I went to the garden.

Because marigolds are really good in the garden and also terrifically ugly.

They repel pests and attract beneficials while all the while looking like burned up wads of tissue paper that somehow missed the trash can and blew into the yard. But they do all that fruity shit for the garden that is actually quite good and real but for which people think I'm insane and, like, a whimsical moon maiden to believe and I don't care because fuck those guys.

I'll have burned up dark orange tissue wads protecting my last garden in this house because it has to be AMAZING HOLY SHIT or, like, BUST or whatever.

And so I found marigolds that were in a color I could stomach and wouldn't make me think that I had a bunch of blossoms on my vegetables because they were the same yellow color as the majority of my crops' blossoms. Which was the other reason I came to hate marigolds because I have only ever grown the yellow ones and I'd get all, "OOH! The tomatoes have blossomsohnotheydon'tit'sjustastupidmarigoldjerk."

Less jerky

Hate that.

So, I got these. Dark orange. I love orange. You know this.

And then because I hardly ever grow marigolds and have, obviously, very little idea how big they actually get, I planted about 105 of them in and around my vegetable garden that is not even 100 square feet.

So, yeah...the fucking marigolds.

I planted too many.

Are you seeing the burned up wad of tissue paper thing here?

And every time I come out here to check on how the AMAZING HOLY SHIT garden is doing, I think to myself, "WOW! This garden is doing AMAZING. HOLY SHIT!" and then, "I planted a too many marigolds. This is fucking ridiculous."

The "Watermelon" bed. Mmhhmm...

Also, "Wow. Those are way bigger plants than I remember them being. No wonder my work crew thought I was insane for wanting to put 3 plants to a 1 gallon pot at the entrances to my greenhouse. They must think I'm a moron."

Whatever. They're huge and the garden is really AMAZING HOLY SHIT so I'm fine with it.

The "Cucumber" bed

The Tomato bed that was saved the indecency of being overrun by marigolds but instead by nasturtium.

The tomatillo bed - spared the marigolds, but still a little scared.

Though I am having a hard time finding the AMAZING HOLY SHIT vegetables I was so intent on growing.

Beans? Are there beans in there? I think that no.

Because they're pretty much lost forever behind all the muther fucking marigolds yikes.

I'm thinking of pulling a few plants out, but you know how I am and how I hate to throw plants away, especially ones that are doing so well and clearly helping the garden so much.

Though I can't really say how much because I am having a pretty hard time finding the vegetables in there.

But I've found some.

And they've been pretty AMAZING HOLY SHIT so far.

The pole beans (Fortex, Blue Coco) and cucumbers (Lemon, Boothby Blonde) that I've snatched from the grips of marigolds.

The first pink lemon which I'm told tastes like grapefruit.

Kinda looks like grapefruit if you ask me. Which you are, right? That's why you're here? So, yes - grapefruit.

And I've, thanks to the not-yellowness of the marigolds, found lots of tomato blossoms and tomatillo blossoms and no watermelon blossoms yet because their sun may be getting blocked by the...um...marigolds, but I can see their spotted leaves!

The first lanterns! Not at all obscured by tricky lying ass marigolds.

Some more beans. Because OH MY GOD WITH THE FUCKING BEANS.

That's a cucumber blossom which is OCCUPIED.

Yeah - watermelons. For reals.

Some tomatoes already setting. 

Yes. The blossoms are on the plants, fruit is on some of the plants, we'll probably have our first tomato by 4th of July which is almost 2 months before we move, we've already harvested nearly 10 pounds of beans and another 10 of cucumbers and it's really looking like my post productive garden ever.

Also we have grapes and this artichoke.

This artichoke

These grapes

And, like a billion sweet peas and nasturtium and we did have this volunteer Lemon Queen sunflower that I just hacked down because it was leaning unattractively and shade-blockingly in front of the melons that just grew up out of nowhere without my help or water.

I won't take credit for that one. It was just the annual, "Who's this fucking guy?" sunflower that I have gotten each year for the last, like, five years at least.

Man. I'm going to miss that next spring.

I caught some fish and then didn't die of heat stroke.

Dudes, can I tell you something?

I'm over summer.

Yeah. It's happened. I finally OVER-summered after years of being all "OH I LOVE SUMMER THE MOST! Fall sucks! Don't say Fall! It's the new F word!".

And now it's been summer for, like, three years and all I want in the fucking world is some rain and then some snow and to wear my down booties in the house without Bubba being all, "Really, dude? It's 90 degrees."

I know, my love. I FUCKING KNOW.

Ugh.

He hates it, too. It's not right for me to get all sweary at him about it, especially since we're both pretty sure I brought this on us myself.

Perhaps the entire state has me to blame for the drought and this bloody forever-taking hot ass muther fucking summer.

Perhaps.

Either way, I'm over it. And in a very visible LOOK AT ME MOTHER NATURE - I'M COMPLYING act, I'm setting out to bring about fall.

Like, starting today.

I went out to that yard and I gave everything its fall pruning. And I went out to the garden and took down the tomatoes and peppers. And if this state had adequate water resources to do so, I'd wash my car, but we do not so I'm only fantasizing about it while my beloved Duchess is buried under a heap of dust and bird doo.

Also, I'll probably bake some cookies. And if that doesn't turn on some fall weather, I'll start a knitting project, plant some bulbs, make chili in the crockpot and, like carve a fucking pumpkin or something.

What else is fall-like that I can do to get some NOT-SUMMER to happen, people?

It's gross out here in California, is what I'm saying. This state is dry as a popcorn fart and I have stopped enjoying it.

A week ago though, I enjoyed the piss out of it.

Can't catch the biggest cutthroat of one's life in winter, friends. That's something.

Or the biggest wild rainbow trout of one's life either.

It was approximately 100 degrees in this tent and that beer wasn't nearly large enough.

Riding this bike down the mountain in Mammoth was like descending into hell itself. But with extra sweating. 

Why, hello Eastern Sierras. I haven't seen you in five whole minutes.

So, yeah, it's hot here.

The yard work today was nearly my final act.

I had to lie down afterward is how bad it was. And then I had to have cocktails. You know, to cool off.

So, fall soon, then?

Glad someone's growing something around here because it sure as shit isn't me. Apparently.

You know how people say shit like contractors' houses are always in the worst repair or cleaning ladies' houses are always the messiest or whatever?

Yeah, so I think I'm like that now, but for farmers.

Because WHOA does my vegetable garden suck it this year.

Um, sad.

Um, sadder.

I mean, yes, it's the end of the summer and usually shit looks like shit by now, but it's basically looked this sad since, like, June, and when we got back from our backpacking trip I hobbled out there on my peg leg and ripped the beans out of that empty bed you see there because I couldn't take it anymore.

It was depressing.

It's possible that with finishing my horticulture degree, starting a new farm job and going on a two week backpacking trip that tried to kill me, I *may* have neglected my vegetable garden, like, the tiniest bit.

I should probably be ashamed of myself, but as is my way, I'm just forgetting about it and moving on.

Enter the winter garden.

Red baron onions were so awesome last year, I'm putting in a hundred this year, which is twice as many as last year for those of you who are keeping count. Which is weird of you to do, I just want to say.

Dill and cilantro were so badass all winter last year even when the hard frost came, so that's happening again, too. En mass.

Plus, I've organized the direct sow stuff (Pacific Gold and Ruby Streaks mustard greens, Romance and Nelson carrots, Hollow Crown parsnips, Cherry Belle and French Breakfast radishes, arugula, buckwheat, Aquadulce fava beans, Rocky Top lettuce) that will go in once it stops being in the fucking nineties all the live long day FINALLY GAH.

I'm over summer, people. Specifically, the heat. It's to the point where I'm saying Fall with a capital F to see if I can't bring about the end of this molten summer. It's not working.

Thankfully, for the sake of our winter tomato eating and Other Foods of Summer Which I Failed To Grow eating, I've discovered the best perk of working on a farm and that is the peer pressure to PLEASE TAKE SOME FUCKING WHATEVER YOU WANT OUT OF THE COOLERS BECAUSE THERE'S SO MUCH.

Yes, hi, I will have 22 pounds of dry farmed tomatoes thank you.

And then PLEASE GO HARVEST WHATEVER YOU WANT FROM THE FIELD RIGHT NOW BECAUSE WHOA.

"Plant it, eat it, throw it at the neighbor kids - just take some of this garlic."

"The dry farmed tomatoes are in - let's go taste them." = favorite thing I've ever heard someone say.

"Oh, and pick as many as you want. There are lots." = second favorite thing I've ever heard someone say.

That's a lot of zucchini to leave on neighbors' porches.

These peppers were too big for retail sales, so OOPSY DARN I'll have to take a flat home.

Also I bought a pie from the farm stand because obviously.

And then I finally, after being in a total cooking/eating/dealing with only dehydrated food rut, I took all of that goodness into my kitchen and made a new thing.

Herbed cheese stuffed zucchini blossoms

Ingredients

• A few dozen squash blossoms (pick the males, which are the flowers without the little squash growing on the bottom), rinsed, dried and stamen removed (that's the pointy part in the flower with the pollen all over it)
• 8 oz plain soft farmer's cheese
• A few handfuls of fresh herbs (I used parsley, dill, cilantro, savory and basil), chopped
• 1 cup white flour
• 1T sea salt
• 1T fresh ground pepper
• 1 egg
• 1 cup vegetable oil

To make

Mix the chopped herbs, salt, pepper and cheese until the herbs are distributed evenly throughout the cheese. 

Carefully unravel the blossoms and press a tablespoon or two of the cheese mixture into the stamen-less center of each blossom and twist it closed.

Then set it up decoratively on a plate and spend way too long taking pictures of your handiwork because LOOK HOW FANCY.

Neato.

This one was the king I decided.

Then start your oil heating in a deep fry pan over medium heat until it shimmers and mix together the flour, salt and pepper in a bowl.

Crack your egg into another bowl, whisk it up and set up your conga line to the fry pan.

Then, because you're a dick and probably also because you've been drinking this whole time, take the first stuffed blossom with your handy tongs and completely bypass the conga line and stick the thing right in the hot oil without battering it. 

Then realize the error of your ways, rescue it out of the oil, send it through the conga line while hoping that the hot oil won't start cooking the egg, see that it totally does, replace the egg in the bowl, dip the semi-cooked egg battered blossom in the flour mixture, put it gently in the hot oil, move your cocktail to the bar where you won't be able to constantly sip from it, and then proceed to dip, batter and fry the rest of the blossoms without error.

When you're done frying your battered blossoms to a golden brown by just letting them slowly fry over medium heat instead of trying to speed things up by overheating and thus burning them over high heat, make a quick caprese salad with what's left of your farm haul, put out some good balsamic vinegar to dip your blossoms into and have the most indulgent dinner since the last time you made fried chicken.

Sure, fried stuffed zucchini blossoms should probably be an appetizer,  but eh. 

Eat them all in one sitting because they don't save for shit.